


These letters I write by the water; tell me who I am and who you are...

by luxshine



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canonical Character Death, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxshine/pseuds/luxshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is a lonely man getting back after the death of a dear friend and  a long rehab period. Bruce Banner is a man who wants to be alone, with the monsters inside his head. What could bring them together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a house, a letter.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to A_Raleigh, who is a wonderful beta and great plot bunny wrangler.

Tony Stark closed the main door to the house and smiled.

He was finally free of the self-imposed hell that had been private rehab, and ready to get back to his life. His life, with a reliable wi-fi connection that didn't short out every twenty minutes, a phone line that worked even during storms and most importantly, people to talk and drink with.

Well, no. Not drink with. Not anymore. He had promised, and the only reason why he had been in this house instead of in a rehab center was because his family preferred to keep their privacy.

And yet, there had been days in which a rehab clinic sounded like a great idea. 28 days, to get sober. Instead, he had been living like a hermit for six months, with nothing but his thoughts for company.

That had been true for the first day. On the second day, he had gotten an unexpected roommate.

"Dum-e! If you don't get your ass here right now, I'm leaving without you!"

The black and grey mutt that had made her home with him on the past months ran from the forest to the car, jumping right on the driver seat. Tony shook his head, amused. The first time the dog had come to him, she had managed to hit herself with the glass door of the garden, which had led to her name. Since then, she seemed to live up to it, even if she did follow most of Tony's instructions.

"I'm not letting you drive, Dum-e. You'll send us straight to the lake if you do," he told her, moving her off to the passenger seat. She barked at him, wagging her tail. Because that's how she answered every time Tony talked to her.

So with the keys to the house in his pocket, and his luggage already on the car, he walked back to the little quaint mailbox in front of the house's yard. In the months he had been there, the only mail that had arrived had been bills, but now, he had one note to leave. The last time he would have to use the alias he had agreed to follow while getting sober.

Once in the city, he would get back to his routine. Back to having Pepper control his schedule, Rhodey complaining about the changes to Stark Industries;  Happy driving him around and reminding him not to drink, his brother's holier than thou attitude and of course, the trial.

Part of him had wanted to stay drunk until after it. But now, sober and clear headed, he knew he couldn't. It was time to face the ghosts of his past.

Ruefully, he looked back at the house. Build on top of a deck; it was the only construction inside the Lake. Surrounded by trees, with huge windows that covered the first floor and the platform that was the bedroom. It also had a floating garden, and, for some reason, a tree growing in the middle of the living room.  Tony had hated the first three months, but now that he had to leave, he conceded he would miss the sanctuary that it had become for him.

A place of calm in the middle of madness. He just hoped that whoever rented it next would find it as welcoming as he had.

 

*             *             *

 

Dr. Bruce Banner, M.D.  stopped the truck just as the road ended, in front of his new home. From the outside, the house looked as everything that Mr. Fury had promised him: Isolated, quiet, and with enough space to have a workshop if he wanted to continue his projects.

Not that he was planning on continuing them.  The whole purpose of moving there was to avoid stress and try and find his peace again.  In any case, the house also looked as if it needed some work done and that would be enough to keep him busy somehow.

According to Mr. Fury, his closest neighbors were about 12 miles away. For some people, it was too far away, but at the moment, Bruce wanted nothing more than to be completely alone.

He knew not everyone agreed with his decision. His best friend had yelled at him for three hours on the phone when he had asked her to pick him up at the police station. Then her father had yelled at her for ten minutes because he didn't want him to get bailed out, and Bruce had been close to punching him too. It only helped to make him even surer that he needed to stay away.

As he stopped next to the mailbox, he realized that the flag on it was up. Frowning, he picked up the letter inside, wondering what it could be. Mr. Fury had told him that all the bills were paid through the internet when he paid the rent, so there shouldn't be any mail. Once he saw the envelope, however, he smiled.  The letter was marked _"To the latest brave soul to live in the middle of nowhere"_ , which on itself, was enough to make him laugh.

He didn't know who had rented the place before him, but at least he knew that he or she had an interesting sense of humor.

 

 

****

As he finished reading, Bruce frowned again and walked to the kitchen. The counters were clean, not brand new but newer than the rest of the house.

There wasn't a beaker there. Glued or otherwise.

 


	2. An Accident, an enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is trying to get used to his life, while Bruce wants to find some peace. But for Tony, it's hard to get used to the fact that he's about to testify against one of his oldest friends, and Bruce... Bruce gets a visitor.

Twenty four hours into his old life, and Tony was needing not one drink, but the entire bar. Unfortunately, there was no alcohol at all in his house, thanks to Pepper, so he had to face the world sober.

At first, it had been easy. A board meeting to inform that the order to stop all weapons production and that the surplus created would be destroyed and then recycled into something better. He wanted to keep the current investigations in clean energy, and the medical research wing that his father had originally added for tax reasons. The board hadn't been happy about it, even threatened to have him declared incompetent due to his alcoholism, but with Pepper's help, he had managed to prevail.

It also helped that none of them wanted to get involved in the trial.

And that was the main problem. Tony leaned back on the seat of his car as he waited for Happy to bring Dum-e from her appointment with the vet. On the four months he had lived in the house by the lake, he hadn't thought about the trial at all. At first, because he had been suffering the effects of withdrawal, and later because he had just put it all in the back of his mind. Unfortunately, now it came the time to actually think about it.

"Mr. Stark?" A familiar and completely unwelcome voice pulled him out of his thoughts, as he turned around to see Christine Everheart, reporter for the Daily Herald. Bane of his existence, and occasional one night stand. "Now, this is a surprise. Do you have a minute?"

Before he could open his mouth to answer, Dum-e quickly jumped into the back seat, while Happy stood between the car and Mrs. Everheart.

"Mr. Stark will not make any comments until he decides to schedule a press conference." Happy said,  his face not betraying the fact that he was very familiar with Christine. He had driven her out from Tony's house more than once.

"So, hiding behind the muscle again, Tony?" Christine, true to her profession was not letting  Tony go away. "Just as you did when Stark Inc. guns started appearing in police raids?"

"That has been dealt with," Tony said, because as much as he didn't want to talk to Christine, or to any reporter for that matter, he still had to face what had happened. Happy turned to look at him, so Tony just shook his head, a signal for his driver to get into the driver seat and stop playing bodyguard. "And as soon as the trial is over, I'll gladly give a full exclusive for you about everything you want to know. For now, my answer is 'no comment'."

"What about the arrest of Obadiah Stane, Stark Industries' CEO?" She pressed again,  just as Happy got inside the car and turned on the ignition. "Or why you closed off all the Stark Industry Factories after..."

The end of Christine's question was dwarfed by the familiar sound of tires screeching over the pavement, as someone was trying to swerve, and ten or twelve horns sounding at the same time. Tony quickly turned to see a car zig zaging on the street, as other cars and people on the sidewalks tried to get out of his way, as it got closer to where Tony's car was parked.

"Look out!" Tony didn't know who yelled, it was even probably him, when another car swerved violently right in front of Tony's car,  trying to  avoid the first one and, in the maneuver, ended up getting on the sidewalk, hitting a light post. Everyone went quiet, as the driver who caused the accident drove away apparently unnoticed. Next to the crashed car, to the bent light post, Tony could see a pool of blood.

*             *             *

"Tony? You here?" Steve walked into his brother's workshop, turning on the lights as he did. However, to his surprise, the workshop was completely empty. In fact, except for the obviously brand new dog bed in one corner, Steve would have thought that Tony hadn't put one foot in his former sanctuary since he returned from his self-imposed exile in rehab. The place was clean, ordered, and that made Steve's heart clench.

Because whenever his brother wasn't in the workshop, that usually meant he was at the bar.

Cursing himself, Steve let himself into what his brother dubbed his 'private' elevator at the new building, in order to reach the penthouse, where Tony's private bar was located. Due to the constant meetings with clients, reporters, and executives, Tony had refused to throw away all the alcohol there as soon as he got back, so it meant that there was a clear danger for his recovery. And Happy had called Steve, to warn him that Tony had gotten a bad shock, that they were in for a dark day.

As the door of the elevator opened, Steve took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. The last thing he wanted was to have a row with Tony if Tony had fallen off the wagon so fast.

But to his surprise, the bar was as empty as the workshop had been.

"Master Tony is not here, Master Steve. He hasn't come to the bar by himself at all since his return, if you must know."

Steve turned around, sighing. After almost thirty years, he still hadn't gotten used to the way in which Jarvis, the Stark's family butler, seemed to be able to be everywhere at once. When he was younger, he used to believe that Jarvis had cameras installed on every room, since he always knew where everyone was.

Now, that knowledge was a blessing.

"Where is he, Jarvis?"

"Last time I saw Master Tony, he was in the garage," Jarvis said, watching as Steve turned around in the direction of the elevator. "He seemed very distressed after today's events."

Steve nodded. He had only heard the bare bones of the story from Happy, but he knew his brother. The one thing that had always scared him, even before his self-appointed rehabilitation, had been to hurt someone accidentally, so witnessing a hit and run couldn't be easy for him.

Just as Jarvis said, Tony was standing in the middle of his vast car collection. Sitting on the floor, quite alert, was the  mangy brown dog that Tony had brought back from rehab. It was a very strange sight.

"I've been looking for you all over," he said, trying to start a conversation.

"I'm not drinking, if that's what you're wondering," Tony answered, not even turning to look at him. Steve nodded, trying not to get closer to smell Tony's breath. Dr. Coulson had been very clear about Tony's need for trust, and Steve was not going to do anything to hurt that trust.

"I was far more worried about a random explosion in your lab," Steve managed to say, keeping his tone even. If he had to be honest, at this point, he would've welcomed an explosion from Tony's lab. At least that would mean that his brother was back to normal.

"I'm not in the mood to go up there," Tony said, after a long silence. "There's nothing for me to do in the lab anyway."

Steve frowned at the idea. Even before he and Tony had become brothers, it was hard to find Tony Stark _away_ from a lab. It had been hard to get Tony out of the lab for Howard and Maria's funeral, so hearing his brother say that he didn't want to go to the lab made Steve's heart hurt.

"You can't stay here either," he managed to say, walking closer. The crowbar in Tony's hand was making him nervous. "Is there anywhere you'd like to go? I can drive you."

Tony looked sharply at him, and Steve hoped that he would accept the offer. They didn't have a very close relationship. Steve knew that part of it was his fault. He had been against Tony following Howard's footsteps, against the weapons division of Stark industries, and against letting Obadiah Stane stay as CEO of the company once Tony turned 21. The fact that Steve had been right about Stane and about the weapons didn't make Tony happy and Steve knew it.  And, until Tony decided to stop drinking, any attempt made by Steve to mend their relationship had been absolutely ignored.

"Grab the keys, I'll tell you where to go."

*             *             *

Tony stayed silent while Steve drove them away from the city and into the highway on the way to the house. He didn't want to admit it, but his brother had arrived just at the right moment. The truth was that Tony wanted to get away from his house, but once he had gotten to the garage, he had frozen.

It was ridiculous. He had driven himself and Dum-e from the house to the city without any problems. Except for the silly dog barking at every single green car that passed near them. Only the green ones too, which made Tony wonder if dogs were not actually color blind after all.  But once in the city, he had been unwilling to get behind the wheel.

As the trees started to look familiar, Dumm-e started barking.

"What's wrong with her?" Steve asked, not taking his eyes off the road. He was dependable that way.

"Stop the car," Tony answered, a little more forceful that he needed to. "She wants to walk, and I think I need to be alone."

"Tony, I don't think..." Steve started, with his usual 'I know what you need better than you do' tone, so Tony turned around and took off his dark glasses.

"Just up to the house, then back here. You can see it from here, and I promise I won't disturb the new tenant. I just... I need to clear my head."

Steve lowered his head, before nodding. Before he started the detox, a state mandated shrink had told Tony that he needed to improve his relationship with his brother. Perhaps it was true, but at the moment, he wasn't in the mood to deal with that. On the contrary, the one thing he wanted was to just ignore that Steve Rogers-Stark existed.

He walked all the way to the house, followed by a strangely energetic Dumm-e. Tony just hoped that she didn't think that they were going back to the house, or he would've had a very cranky dog and brother in his hands. But at the same time, he just didn't have the heart to scold her. Truth to be told, he was also happy to be walking down the old dirt road.

The house looked just as it had when he had left it. Empty, silent. The only difference was the flag on the ridiculously antique mailbox. The flag was up.

Even when he knew he was pushing his promise to Steve, Tony opened the mailbox. If anything, he could be a good former tenant and take the mail to the door. That way, he could satisfy his curiosity and meet the latest tenant to the house that had served as his personal safe for six months.

Inside there was only a white envelope. Tony took it out, frowning. It looked almost new, without the wear and tear that a couple of weeks in different postal offices could create. On the back of his mind, he registered that the stamps weren't certified. The letter hadn't passed through the post yet, which made absolutely no sense.

But it was not a problem, as it was addressed to him. Apparently, the new tenant had decided to answer his note. Looking up just briefly to insure that Dum-e wasn't running up the steps to the house, Tony opened the letter.

Tony frowned, reading through the letter twice before looking up to the house. From where he was, it looked empty. No car on the driveway, no activity inside -and, since it had huge windows on the front, it was easy to see almost all rooms from where he was.

Following an impulse, he ran towards the house, and looked inside the kitchen. Right where he had last seen it, there was a bunser beaker on the top of the middle kitchen counter. Frowning, he walked back to where Steve had parked the car. He was sure his brother would have a pen and paper with him.

He had a letter to write.

*             *             *

The first two days in absolute isolation were like heaven to Bruce. Without interruptions or emergencies, he had time to meditate, and to really think about the choices he had made over the years. He had always had a temper, he was not going to deny that, always had what his mother used to call his inner rage monster. But for years, he had supposed that he had it under control. Even in the most stressful of situations, even when the life of a patient was in the hands of an incompetent member of his team, even then, he had kept a lid on  it.

Only to have the rage explode in the worst possible moment. Betty had had a laugh over that, after paying his bail. Interns around the hospital were calling him Dr. Hulk.

But out there, in "The middle of nowhere" as Mr. Rogers had put it, was enough for him to regain his inner peace. As Mr. Fury had promised, the house needed a lot of repairs,  so he decided to start on the kitchen. where the plumbing seemed to have seen his prime somewhere around World War II.

By the fifth day, he had to admit that he was about to concede defeat, and that he was a little bit bored.  Which was the reason why he decided to unpack his lab equipment earlier, and the afternoon of the sixth day found him taking notes on the precipitation on one of the many experiments that his rage incident had interrupted.

As the mixture started to bubble, his cellphone rang. Mindful of the solution, he took it out of the bunsen burner, and placed the beaker on top of the kitchen counter.

"Dr. Banner," he answered, quickly, not even looking at the caller number. It was a habit that he just seemed unable to break, even with the modern phones that allowed one to change the ring tone depending on the person talking. In many ways, Bruce had to admit he was very old fashioned.

"How's the exile going?" Betty sounded excited, as she didn't even let him answer. "Wait, no. Who cares? It's not going to stay that way long. We need you back here, as of now."

"Betty, I don't think your father is going to agree with that," he said, taking off his glasses. He could already tell the conversation was going to be a long one, and that his afternoon of experimenting would have to be cut short. "Last thing he told me was that he was going to ask the board to retire my tenure."

"Yeah, well,  he got outvoted on that. Seven to One, to be exact," she sounded smug, and Bruce didn't want to imagine how that meeting had gone. "So, pack up your bags, and get back here. The kids at the pediatric ward miss you."

"Even if your father didn't fire me, there's no doubt I'm dangerous to be around right now," Bruce tried again.  "Ten psychologists agreed that I have anger management issues and until I solve them, I am not safe to be around."

"How many abusive jerks have you hit today, Bruce?"

"That's not the point, and you know it," Bruce rubbed his eyes tiredly. He loved Betty, she had always been his best friend, but sometimes her insistence was tiresome. "Look, I got suspended for a month..."

"Three weeks, according to Leonard," Betty interrupted.

"He's not supposed to discuss that with anyone," Bruce pointed out, keeping his anger at bay. "And he might have suggested three weeks, but your father insisted on the whole month. And I agreed with him. I need to get this under control, Betty."

A bark in the living room made Bruce miss Betty's answer,  and he looked up to see that apparently, he had forgotten to close the backyard door, as there was a dog sitting on top of the living room couch, Bruce's favorite piece of furniture.

"Wait a moment, Betty, I've got a visitor. I'll call you back."

After hanging up the phone, Bruce walked into the living room. The dog, obviously a stray, wagged his tail at him. 

Bruce looked at the dog, and sighed. The stray didn't look aggressive, but Bruce knew better than to make any assumptions. The dog, on the other hand, just raised its head, looked at Bruce, and then placed its head back on its paws, as if there was nothing interesting to see there.

"Hello," Bruce said, very softly, as he moved really, really slowly towards it. The dog looked at him, but didn't move from its position. As he got closer, the dog barked at him, lolling its tongue. It didn't look scared, didn't look aggressive. In fact, it looked as if he was waiting for Bruce to sit down next to it. So Bruce did, still weary, until the dog placed its head on his leg as if claiming him.

"Ok, uhm... See.. this is awkward. I'm not really much of a dog person," Bruce tried again, but the dog just raised her -now Bruce could see clearly it wasn't a male-  head, looking at him as if he was insane. And licked his hand.

So, apparently, now he was a dog person.

He stayed like that, not wanting to startle the dog, in case she turned violent after all, when a small bang from the kitchen called his attention.

"Oh, shit!" Bruce got to his feet quickly, but the dog didn't seem to mind. She just curled herself again as Bruce ran to the kitchen to discover that his experiment had started bubbling and fizzing, and the liquid had spilled itself out of the beaker.

Bruce tried to clean as fast as he could, but every attempt to pull the Beaker was useless. It seemed that the beaker had been glued there to stay.

As he cleaned his hands, the dog started barking excitedly running towards the door. Bruce followed her all the way to the mailbox, where, to his surprise, the flag was up.

There was a folded piece of paper inside, with Bruce's name scribbled on the side, despite the fact that Bruce was sure that he had never seen anyone approach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! But as you see, this fic isn't abandoned! It's just that RL has given me a lot of troubles lately. But, hey, here we are :D

**Author's Note:**

> First, the title goes to my beta a_raleigh, who helped me when I had this titled as 'Movie Title Bruce'. And I'm not saying which movie yet due to her recommendation, although I bet you guys can guess.  
> Actually, I totally blame her for this, as she showed me said movie ;)


End file.
